He returned to the western courtyard soaked and bruised for the second time in a day. He moved silently through the manicured gardens, a ghost in his own home.
Lady Yu Yan's rooms felt like a fortress under siege. The heavy curtains were drawn tight, blocking the evening light.
A pot of expensive tea sat on the table, untouched and growing cold. The servants were gone, dismissed hours ago.
She stood by the window, a still and elegant silhouette. She didn't need to see his wet cuffs or the grim set of his jaw.
She saw the way he scanned the corners of the room, the way his hand never strayed far from the evidence hidden in his sleeve.
Her expression was calm, but it was the calm of a ship's captain in a storm. She had survived decades of political warfare in this house.
"They're coming," she said, her voice a soft, certain statement. "Tonight."
She didn't wait for his reply. Lady Yu Yan knelt, her silk robes pooling on the floor. She pushed aside a heavy rug, revealing a single floor tile that was slightly misaligned.
"Help me."
Li Xian moved to her side, his hands steady as he worked his fingers into the crack. The stone was heavy, but it lifted cleanly away, revealing a dark, hollow space beneath.
Inside rested a small, iron-strapped chest.
It was sealed with a thick layer of black wax, stamped with a swirling pattern he had never seen before.
"This," Lady Yu Yan said, her voice barely a whisper, "is why your father could never love me. It is a history he wanted buried."
Li Xian used a small knife to break the seal. He lifted the heavy lid.
The lock clicked open. Something inside seemed to exhale a breath of cold, ancient air.
The chest contained only two items.
An old ledger, its leather cover cracked with age, was wrapped carefully in oilcloth.
Beside it lay a heavy abacus, its frame made of dark, petrified wood and its beads carved from chipped, milky jade.
The moment Li Xian's fingers brushed against the ledger's cover, the pressure returned behind his eyes. A whisper, sharp and clear, threaded its way through his thoughts.
FEED…
The voice was not a grand, demonic command. It was the desperate, grasping plea of a starving addict.
He nearly dropped the book. The flinch was tiny, almost imperceptible, but his mother noticed.
Her gaze sharpened with concern. "What is it?"
Li Xian forced a placid expression onto his face, smoothly pulling the ledger from the chest.
"Just tired."
He held the book, the whisper now a constant, nagging pressure in his skull.
He addressed the strange thing mentally, the way he would isolate a persistent piece of malware.
What are you?
He tested it, moving his hand toward the jade abacus. The whisper quieted slightly.
He touched the oilcloth wrapping. Nothing.
He focused on the ledger itself. The feeling intensified. It wasn't just the paper or the ink. It was the weight of the history contained within its pages.
The whisper reacted strongest to things that held old, significant meaning.
He made a decision. He would not be its slave.
You want to be fed? You will have to earn it.
The whisper recoiled, then lashed out, no longer pleading but sharp with indignant fury.
HUNGRY.
Heavy, synchronized footsteps sounded in the courtyard. They stopped directly outside the door.
A sharp knock. Too formal. Too loud.
A servant's voice, strained with false deference, called out. "Lady Yu Yan, by order of the Patriarch, we are here to conduct an inspection of these premises for undeclared assets!"
His mother stiffened. She knew this tactic.
An "inspection" was a prelude to an execution. They would search the room, "discover" contraband they had planted themselves, and use it as a pretext to purge her and her son.
Li Xian quietly slid the ancient ledger back into the chest. He nudged the floor tile into place.
Then he stopped.
He kept one thin, brittle page from the book clutched tightly in his hand, hidden in his sleeve.
Li Xian opened the door, a polite and welcoming smile on his face.
He faced a squad of household guards, led by one of Steward Zhao's sneering lieutenants.
"An inspection?" Li Xian said warmly. "Of course. May I see the written order?"
The lieutenant scoffed and shoved a piece of paper at him.
"And the Patriarch's seal, naturally," Li Xian continued, his tone reasonable. "I'll also need the name of the witnessing elder who co-signed the order, as is required by family procedural law, section three."
The guards stared, their bravado faltering. They were thugs, used to bullying concubines and servants, not quoting bylaws. They had expected tears and begging, not a procedural audit.
Li Xian's smile never wavered. "If your order is legitimate, you won't mind a little procedure, will you?"
A smooth voice cut through the tense silence from down the hall.
"That's enough." Steward Zhao emerged from the shadows.
Zhao approached, his face a mask of false kindness and disappointment. "Young Master Xian, please. Don't make this difficult for everyone."
His eyes flickered past Li Xian, into the room where Lady Yu Yan stood. "We have reason to believe your mother has been hiding assets from the family. A great disloyalty, in these trying times."
Li Xian's tone remained light, but his eyes were chips of ice. "My mother has nothing to hide."
Lady Yu Yan remained behind him, a silent, dignified statue. She was the leverage, and she knew it.
Zhao's patience snapped. The fake smile vanished.
"Search the room," he commanded the guards. "Now."
As the guards pushed past him, Li Xian held up the inspection order.
He looked at the red wax seal stamped at the bottom.
The whisper in his skull, silent until now, returned with a single, excited hiss.
LIE.
He didn't know how he knew. The seal looked perfect. The paper felt right. But the entity in his head was certain. The document was a forgery.
If he proved it, he would win this fight.
If he was wrong, they would bury him—and his mother with him.